


Heart Itch

by glitterbitch



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, PWP, Well a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2889641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterbitch/pseuds/glitterbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders may possibly have feelings for Fenris. Fenris may possibly have feelings for Anders. Luckily, an accidental brush of magic helps things along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Anders had a crush. A pesky, hard-to-deny crush that pained him daily.

The first hint that Anders’ feelings for Fenris might be reciprocated was during a fight – a grisly battle with guts flying through the air and blood slicking every surface and no room to breathe let alone communicate _feelings_. Giant spiders had dropped from every side, leaving Anders cornered and badly outnumbered. Hawke had shouted orders, but Fenris ignored her to slice his way to Anders, then had cast him a gloriously heated look – A spider had almost eaten Anders alive as he tried to decipher it. By the time their foes were scattered across the cave floor, Fenris was studiously pretending that the battle had gone completely as planned, even as Hawke despaired over their lack of teamwork. The whole encounter left Anders’ mind in overdrive.

** - **

A week after that, they sat next to each other in a game of Wicked Grace in Varric’s room, where the drink was flowing freely and the conversation more so. Their knees knocked relentlessly, jostling each other with the slightest movement – which was not helped by the fact that Anders was already jumpy from their proximity – until Fenris reached under the table and stilled his leg. His hand seemed to burn through the mages robes where it rested on his thigh, and Anders nearly missed his turn. Fenris kept his hand there far longer than necessary, even shuffling closer in the pretence of giving Aveline more space, which left them pressed thigh to thigh. They didn’t say a word to each other. Anders lost altogether when the elf’s mostly bare foot twined around his ankle.

** - **

After that, there were small touches everywhere; a bump of the shoulders, a brush of fingertips along his collarbone, a hand in the small of his back. Every time Fenris let himself show those tiny affections, Anders spent the next few hours consumed with doubt over whether he should initiate a conversation about where Fenris intended to take those touches, or perhaps make an open declaration of feelings. But he didn’t. The attraction was there, but when it came down to it, they were still an impossible pair: The Mage and The Mage Hater.

** - **

Eventually, they learned to talk. They still fought, but they also held intelligent conversations where they tried their best to respect each other’s opinions. It was a far cry from the elf Anders had first met, and it seemed that when their differences were forgotten they truly got along well. Better than well. Anders still wasn’t sure how a relationship between them would work – and of course that topic had yet to be broached – but there was hope.

** - **

They almost kissed a few times. The first time, Fenris was walking home a rather drunk Anders after a night at the Hanged Man when he dragged Fenris into a dark corner, pulling him close and wrapping his arms around his neck. Instead of kissing, though, Anders lost his nerve and giggled wildly until he threw up perilously close to the elf’s feet. The next time, it was when out collecting herbs – Anders had been left with a strange writhing in his stomach that had nothing to do with alcohol. The next, after a battle with everyone watching. Ander just wanted it to happen already.

** - **

And then one night it all came to a head.

Three knife wounds, a badly broken nose and a boy with a nasty stomach upset had been the extent of Anders’ day, and his evening had shaped up to be even worse. No less than four men had come in complaining of mysterious itches, and Anders certainly felt that his having to examine each and every one of their rubbed-raw cocks was reason enough to let himself close the clinic earlier than usual. He was exhausted. The promise of a warm bed kept him steadily cleaning up splashes of blood and other bodily fluids (which he’d rather not think about), but his hopes of sleep were dashed when a lithe elf prowled into his clinic.

Because if he was anything, Fenris was a prowler. A prowler who often bore bad news.

“Can I help you?” Anders asked, keeping his voice mild. “Wait, let me guess – you have an itch?”

Fenris’ frown of confusion sent a wave of relief through Anders. He’d only been teasing, but he really did not feel like slathering more salve on men’s delicate areas. Although, if it was Fenris’ delicates in question – but Anders cut off that line of thought swiftly.

“Hawke sent me,” Fenris explained. “She wanted me to check on you.”

That did not surprise Anders in the least.

“That woman worries like a mother bear.” Anders rolled his eyes. “One of her cubs wanders off for even a moment and she’s sending people every which way to make sure he’s not – what was the phrase? ‘Overworking himself’.”

“And are you?” The blunt question stumped Anders for a second, but he waved a hand airily.

“Probably, but I manage just fine.”

Fenris paused, his concern apparent and somewhat surprising. Or perhaps it was just annoyance at having to be the one to tell Hawke that her favourite mage had dark circles under his eyes and a wobble in his stride. Whatever it was, Anders decided that keeping him from his bed was not doing him any favours.

“As you can see,” Anders said primly, “I’m fine. Thank you for your concern-”

“ _Hawke’s_ concern-” Fenris interjected.

“-and if you could shut that door behind you as you leave, that would be simply peachy.”

Fenris didn’t move. Anders sighed. Spreading his arms wide as if to say ‘well?’ he gave Fenris an imploring look, which apparently prompted him to movement at last. Fenris marched towards Anders with a determined glint in his eye.

Things happened rather quickly after that.

Anders, who’d been pushing magic through his fingertips for so long that day that he failed to notice the tingle that was its indicator, reacted as one might when attacked by an attractive yet heavily armed elf and moved to defend himself. He threw up a hand, only to have his wrist grabbed by the elf and a pulse of magic shoot from one to the other.

Fenris had only been trying to make sure the mage actually went to bed instead of staying up to work on one of his various projects. He made a strangled noise and fell forward against Anders, effectively pinning him against the wall. Anders blinked in surprise, clueless as to what one tiny pulse had done to the elf. It shouldn’t have hurt him in the slightest – unless it had reacted badly with his markings, which he then realised was a distinct possibility. The lyrium tattoos were glowing brightly in the dim light of the clinic.

“Are you alright?” Anders asked anxiously, holding the elf by the shoulders. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t think-”

“Hush, mage.” Fenris’ voice sounded strained.

Anders frowned, tilting Fenris’ head up to check him over. His eyes widened at the sight the elf made – shoulders heaving, lips parted, cheeks flushed – he looked utterly debauched. Anders was at a loss for words. His mind hummed with possibilities and explanations for this reaction, but other areas of the mage were rather more interested in the fact that the elf was still pressed bodily against him.

Fenris pushed his nose into the crook of Anders’ neck, pressing ever closer so that more and more of their bodies were touching. Anders mind was blank, unable to comprehend the situation. On impulse, he brought his hand to the back of the elf’s neck and sent another pulse of magic through him – so quickly he didn’t have time to change his mind. He began lining apologies up on his tongue immediately, but is risk was been rewarded by the evidence of the elf’s arousal pressed into Anders’ thigh and Fenris eagerly nuzzling into his neck, making small noises of enjoyment.

“Is this-” Anders had to clear his throat and try again. “Is this okay? You’re not- you want this?”

The space left by Fenris as he pulled his head back was cold, but the look on his face spelt _want_ in uppercase. Good, they were on the same page. Anders hadn’t even noticed that his shoulders were tense until he got that affirmation and they dropped a few inches. With a quirk of his mouth he ground their hips together, letting Fenris rest his head on the mage’s feathered pauldron again as he let out a shuddering moan.

“Bed?” Fenris asked, low voice sending a shiver down Anders’ spine.

He still had no idea how this was happening, but there was no way it was stopping any time soon, despite the tiredness still oozing through Anders’ weary body.

“Definitely,” he breathed.

Anders pulled Fenris by the hand, leading him into the small back room where his blanket-less bed sat. It was small, but at least it wasn’t a cot. Still breathing hard, Fenris shoved the mage backwards onto the bed and situated himself above him after unclipping Lethandralis and putting the greatsword well out of the way. He nosed his way down Anders’ neck, pulling open his robes as he went, his nimble fingers making short work of the intricate clasps and buckles. Anders could do little more than enjoy the look of concentration on the elf’s flushed face.

As the last layer was taken off, Fenris pulled himself up to the other man’s face and pressed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth, drawing an impatient moan from him. Anders caught his lips fiercely, hungry for more, and began to pull off the elf’s own clothes, infinitely glad that he hadn’t taken the time to wear his armour today.

Amongst the mumbled curses and mingling breath, Anders let his hands smooth over the miles of tattooed skin on display and every now and then letting a spark of magic play along his fingertips, jumping from his skin to the lyrium markings, making them glow brilliantly. This drew delicious noises from Fenris which Anders eagerly swallowed down as their lips moved fervently together.

“You like this, don’t you?” Anders breathed between mouthing the elf’s collarbone. “Finally getting me on my back.”

“Only in the brief moments you’re silent,” Fenris muttered. The mage laughed, letting his head fall back onto the bed, but he quickly hushed when Fenris licked a stripe up his neck and again sealed their mouths in a kiss.

“Fair enough,” was all Anders could gasp when they broke apart for breath. Fenris nipped at his bottom lip, coaxing another ragged moan from the mage.

In return, Anders reached between them to wrapped slim, pale fingers around Fenris’ cock and let magic course between them. He also discovered the answer to a question he’d long pondered; did Fenris’ markings extend to his tender areas? Yes. The elf writhed atop him, tensing and relaxing as pleasure rolled through him at the beck and call of the mage he so intent of making his own.

The coarse fibres of his bedspread rubbed not unpleasantly on Anders back as his hand sped, Fenris, unable to do anything but and buck into it enthusiastically. Holding himself up until then, his elbows wobbled and gave way – leaving him to rest on Anders and slither warm hands up his chest. It took only a few pulls and one last burst of magic to reduce Fenris to a shaking mass in his arms.

They lay side-by-side for long moments while Fenris caught his breath and Anders smiled stupidly to himself, unreasonably proud to be able to do that to someone. It’d been a long time since he’d experienced that feeling – even longer since it’d been with someone he cared about.

Slowly, his feeling of contentment drifted into light sleep. Fenris, oblivious to the mage’s weariness, rolled atop him again and began to kiss a light trail from his chest to his neck, intending to return the favour. It was only when he reached his parted mouth that Fenris drew back with a frown and realised Anders was, for the better part, asleep.

He was off the bed and throwing on his clothes in a second, appalled that after things seemed to go so well, that damn mage had _fallen asleep_. Not giving it any further thought, Fenris picked up Lethandralis and made to leave. He caught himself at the doorway, however, and glanced back at the dozing mage. Eyeing a blanket, he pondered the merits of leaving Anders naked in the chilly air. It only took a heartbeat for Fenris to snort and turn away, leaving the blanket untouched.

It only took another moment for him to turn back and toss the blanket on the mage in disgust, not bothering to pull it over him, instead leaving it bunched at his feet. It was still more than he deserved.

Fenris fairly stormed out of the Clinic, frowning his way to Hightown. He saw a handful of dodgy looking characters on his way back, but the stormy expression on his face and the dangerous way he slunk past kept them at bay. Though he oozed irritation, the elf paused before entering his home. He rested a hand against his door, and let his mind flick back to the feel of magic setting his body alight - not with the usual pain, but pure, unadulterated pleasure. More importantly, he thought of Anders. His foolish feather pauldrons, his need to help people, his complete belief in his cause. Fenris smiled faintly before pushing the door open.

“This may work,” he murmured to himself, faintly amused. “It may actually work.”

Then he frowned, and rolled his eyes. Of course, that depended on that bloody mage's ability to stay awake.

 


	2. Chapter 2

There was no light to filter through windows and wake Darktown residents; day was revealed by a buzz that spoke of bodies moving and working and a general sense of resigned bustling. Night was just the opposite – it was distinguishable only by a certain quiet in the air, a chill that meant the rest of the city was asleep.

As it was, Anders woke sometime near midday, hours after the clinic was meant to be opened and many more hours since his late-night visitor had left. It took Anders until he’d stretched luxuriously and wondered at his state of undress to remember the events of the past night – he’d slept with Fenris. _He’d_ _fallen asleep on Fenris._ Anders lay still for a long moment, wondering if Fenris would be insulted by his overtiredness. After a second longer a stream of curses poured from the mage as he leapt from his bed and tossed on a clean set of robes. He told himself it wasn’t a big deal as he sped out the door, but he knew that falling asleep would be just the sort of thing that would scare Fenris off – he’d take it as disinterest or rudeness when it was simply sleep deprivation. No, Anders definitely had to apologise.

The walk to Hightown was longer than he remembered, so Anders had plenty of time to ponder just how he would phrase his apology. _‘Hey, at least you came before I fell asleep’_ didn’t have the right ring to it, while _‘I promise I won’t fall asleep next time’_ sounded at once presumptuous and insincere. Besides, _‘No really, I’m sorry’_ just wouldn’t cut it with a man like Fenris.

His worrying did one thing to lift Anders’ spirits, however; it reminded him that he had been with Fenris last night, touched him everywhere, had a _hand around his dick_. Anders tried to supress a grin but failed miserably, a slight bounce entering his stride.

There was no bounce left by the time he reached Fenris’ mansion. Thoughts tumbled through his mind at breakneck speed. He worried that Fenris had only wanted him because of the magical pleasure – or if he had wanted Anders for himself, was falling asleep unforgivable? Surely the elf wasn’t that unreasonable… But Anders worried insistently. His hand wavered for long seconds before he finally moved to knock – then he dropped his hand again and scrubbed a palm over his face. The wind whistled through the Hightown streets, laughing at him.

Finally, _finally,_ he knocked. The door opened immediately.

“I could see you dithering from the window,” the elf grumbled.

Anders could only see the usual amount of anger in Fenris’ face, and his heart lifted slightly. He waited for Fenris to say something else, but the elf’s scowl only grew as they stood there. Anders swallowed apprehensively.

“Look, I’m sorry I fell asleep, it had been a long day – well, two days – and I just-” he broke off when Fenris turned on his heel and stalked back inside.

“You made your feelings clear, _mage,”_ Fenris spat the last word as if it tasted bad. “Our tryst last night was obviously just- just _stress release_ to you.”

Anders opened and shut his mouth a few times before he followed the elf, jogging to catch up.

“Stress release? Stress – you’re the one that got off!” Anders squawked, voice rising to a pitch Fenris was sure only mabari’s could hear.

He made no effort to reply, instead sitting cross legged on the floor to resume polishing his armour. Ander gestured vaguely with his hands, unable to form words, then grunted in frustration.

“So that’s it?” his arms slapped to his sides. “I thought- I mean-”

Fenris paused his polishing.

“I don’t know what I thought,” Anders sighed at last. “This obviously meant nothing to you. I should leave.”

Fenris was on his feet in a second, hand shoving Anders back from the direction of the door. He was enraged – how _dare_ that mage suggest he had not felt anything, that it hadn’t meant anything to him, when they’d been dancing around each other for months. Fenris had expressed his interest in every way he knew how – and now that blasted mage had the nerve to say it meant nothing.

Before he knew what he was doing, Fenris had Anders backed against the wall.

“How dare you,” he growled.

“What, so you didn’t just want me for that little trick I can do?”

Abruptly the anger rushed out Fenris him in a tidal wave and he stepped back. The way Anders had said that, how small his voice had been and the pain hidden in it suggested a lifetime of people using him. He’d begun the sentence sarcastically, but a tinge of hope had coloured his voice in the last few words, and Fenris responded to that fiercely.

“ _Venhedis_ , mage, I was glad for that to happen.”

He was rewarded with an achingly hopeful look from the blonde man leaning defensively against his wall. Fenris stepped forward again and took Anders’ face in his hands – not rough, but not as gentle as he could have been – and continued.

“The _magic_ just lowered our – my – inhibitions,” Fenris was not pleased to admit that magic had helped him, but he was pleased that it had. “I think we’ve both made it clear that we wanted that to happen.”

Anders let out a wobbly laugh. Fenris’ calloused hands were warm on his face, cupping his jaw firmly.

“So you… would like to try this?” Anders cleared his throat. “A, uh, a relationship?”

“I don’t ever want to let you out of my sight,” the elf admitted. “I want you to belong to me and I to you so fully that we become the only two beings in the universe.” He drew a shaky breath while Anders stared, wide eyed. “I am aware that we don’t always agree-”

“Understatement,” Anders broke in.

“-and I wouldn’t want this to end badly because of differing opinions. There is no happy medium between our beliefs.”

Under his hands, Fenris felt Anders’ jaw clench, and he knew he spoke the truth.

“However,” he continued, voice soft, “I find my opinions changing every day.”

He let his words linger in the air, the promise of possibility floating between them like a summer breeze. Anders let out a strangled breath and let his muscles relax, sinking into Fenris’ embrace. Lowering his arms to the mage’s waist and nosing into his neck, Fenris murmured something that Anders almost missed;

“I don’t want to be less than you deserve.”

His heart felt as if it was going to burst.

“Nor I, you.”


End file.
